


Swan Song

by The_Grasshopper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Kind of Dean negative, POV Sam Winchester, Possession, Self-Identity, autonomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23746564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Grasshopper/pseuds/The_Grasshopper
Summary: Sam came to. Only, he didn’t.While his body was wrested from unconsciousness, Sam was on ice: it was on his skin; in his lungs; seeping into his heart.A rewrite of the events of Swan Song from Sam's perspective, dealing with Sam's possession and how it relates to self-doubt, his sense of identity, and autonomy.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Swan Song

**Author's Note:**

> Went back and edited it because I wasn't happy.

Sam came to. Only, he didn’t.

While his body was wrested from unconsciousness, Sam was on ice: it was on his skin; in his lungs; seeping into his heart.

Sam’s mind, however, was in a state of flux; thoughts slipping away and returning with new words. He wants (to rule)- to save!- (to hurt)- to help!- (to maim; to torture; to _win_ ).

Sam-who-is-not-Sam stares back at him from the mirror, and he splits in two. The ice retreats to his skin. It feels tight, like it cracks with every movement, but in the mirror he looks the same. Then from Sam’s own lips the devil proclaims to be his family; pretends to care for the opinion of his suit. He offers truth - those little slithers of normalcy in Sam’s life were not his own - and vengeance - demons like sacrifices before him.

Something in Sam breaks; something is lost, too. Cold and ice seep back within, and he wants to gasp from a mouth he no longer owns. Wants to take breath into lungs that no longer sustain life. Wants to save, to help, to hurt, to _maim_.

Snap.

Rip.

Tear.

Squelch.

Thud.

Crack.

Their hands work cruel intent upon the ~~people~~ demons who stole Sam’s past.

His mind rends apart again. It hurts more, and perhaps less of himself makes it through. He’s there long enough for the bodies to bring echoes of bile to his mouth, denied by the devil’s stomach. Then he’s lost.

When Lucifer speaks to Michael, their thoughts straighten together, until Sam is not simply hard to separate from Lucifer so much as _they_ are Lucifer and Sam as one being.  
_They_ betrayed their father by leaving his plan, and were cast away.   
_Their_ brother chooses their father over them again and again. _  
__Their_ brother calls them a monster that must be killed.

When Dean appears, he is _their_ brother. And _they_ are angry.

_They_ kill ~~Castiel~~ ~~Cass~~ Castiel for hurting ~~their~~ Lucifer's brother, with less effort than taking a breath, and ~~Castiel’s~~ **Cass’s** blood is like a glaring light that blinds Sam for a moment.

_Bang_

  
  
  


_Bang_

  
  
  


_SnapCrack  
_Bobby’s gone. He falls.

_Crack  
_Dean’s face.

_Crack_

Again

_Crack_

Again

_Crunch._ Again. _Crack._ Again. _CrunchCrackCrunch_.

“-I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you.” Words fall from his bloody mouth.  
_CrunchCrunch_

A light. It burns for a moment; warm, not cold. Then there’s a recognition that splits sharp from anything in Lucifer’s thoughts, and he grabs on. The devil can’t predict it, counter it or mould it. Can’t freeze it.

A small soldier stuck in the ashtray of the Impala, and Sam knows who he is. Knows _that_ he is.

_Who was he to give himself over without knowing that anyway?_

Memories slip into the uncertain spaces that Lucifer had carved out in his mind. Fly in so quick and fast that they push the devil out at the edges.  
He was a person: he cared; lived; laughed; loved; fought; hated; regretted; feared; waited; rushed; wanted; needed; rejected. 

He existed.

Sam had been torn down so many times that he’d forgotten there was anything left of himself to put back together. Pushing back now - burning heat and rage into Lucifer’s skin, lungs and heart now - _their_ body became _his_. He’s more himself in that moment, with Lucifer packed cold and raging behind his eyes, than he had been in years.

He can’t take back the harm their hands did, but he _can_ prevent more. 

“It’s okay, Dean,” he manages, “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got him.”

He wants to save, to help, to do good.

There’s barely a sound as he tosses the rings to the ground.

“Bvtmon tabges babalon.”

The ground gapes open like a wound; wind is sucked past, into the raging maw, and Sam feels the tug of it in himself too. Like it knows that only with him may it heal. Over the roaring pull of the portal and the cold rattling in his head, he only manages to hear:

“...step back!” from Michael.

“You’re gonna have to make me!” He doesn't know the volume of his voice.

Then all sound is gone entirely, and there is just the world, and the opening ground. 

A breath; he spreads himself out to fall, then-

Michael is grabbing him, and he can’t stop or he’ll lose it all. He grabs and pulls, apologising to Adam as they drop.

The emptiness below swallows him eagerly. 

He attempts one last glance at the real world, but it’s gone.


End file.
